Lakota Winds (Zebra Historical Romance)

by Janelle Taylor

  As she worked, Chumani daydreamed of her husband, of the past suns with him since their joining, and of their passionate night together. She loved and desired him completely, and would be tormented if she lost him. Again that strange and alarming chill swept over her body, as if she were being sent a grim message which she could not grasp.

  For the past three suns, Chumani had labored with the other women who had been left in camp during the first hunt. When her blood flow revealed itself on the morning of the fifth sun since their arrival, she hurried to the willow hut in a contradictory state of joy and sadness. She yearned for their baby, but she also yearned to remain a part of the sacred vision tasks. At least she was not responsible for choosing which path to follow; that was in the hands of the Great Spirit and Mother Nature, and They had spoken.

  During her second day of confinement, Chumani heard a commotion which indicated the first group had returned to camp from their hunt. She peered between spaces in the willow branches, straining her eyes and ears for a sight and sound of her beloved. When she spied him and knew he was back safe and unharmed, she smiled and thanked Wakantanka.

  At sunrise following the afternoon of her departure from the willow hut and carrying out her purification custom, Wind Dancer, Chumani, and the others in their vision party mounted their horses to leave for Fort Pierre as their people began the second buffalo hunt. Riding quickly, they would reach the trading post in a few suns and would confront one of their greatest and most perilous challenges.

  For days, they traveled near the bank of the Sica River where trees and scrubs and other vegetation would provide quick concealment if needed, as its waters flowed straight to their destination. They also had a full moon which would enable them to see a possible threat approaching at a long distance. The daytime sky was vivid blue; early-summer air, temperate; the sun, radiant; and the wind steady. At night, the air was cooler but pleasant, and no campfire, which might reveal their presence, was needed for warmth. Nor was one required for cooking, for they had brought plentiful supplies which were ready to eat.

  Crossing relatively flat terrain for most of the way, the ride was easy, the pace swift. Their spirits heightened and anticipation mounted daily. Often they rode through gaps in buffalo herds and were careful not to overly disturb the animals and provoke them into a race across the Plains which would trample anything and anyone caught in their thunderous path. They sighted numerous antelope and deer, some scattering in panic and some ignoring them as the riders passed near them. They also saw many other creatures foraging on the lush landscape or seeking live prey. Birds, small and large, darted by or hunted overhead. Wildflowers bloomed in colorful profusion, and insects feasted greedily upon them.

  Although the journey seemed a safe and serene one, each knew that trouble could strike at any given time, from enemy or powerful nature. They did not talk during the day as staying highly alert was necessary. They knew they must be ready to make a rapid decision to fight or make a hasty retreat if the odds were too great to challenge. When they did share words at night in camp, they could not plan their impending task, as they did not know what loomed before them until Chumani and Zitkala completed their scouting inside the post. Each was aware anyone-or everyone-in their party could be slain in battle or captured and held as prisoners to be "executed" by the Whites or soldiers. Yet, even at the risk of their lives, this deed must be done for their people to survive and for their hunting and sacred grounds to be retained.

  As they neared their destination, the plateau grasslands gave way to low, rolling hills which eventually became higher and broader ones. Ravines and gulches became more frequent sights where the face of Mother Earth had been eaten away by heavy rains and melting snow. Trees and scrubs dotted the lumpy region and flourished in abundance along the two rivers and their offshoots. They left the watery course they had followed for days and made their way to the last group of hills overlooking the post. There the men could use the landscape for concealment as they waited the women's return. They dismounted and climbed the grassy rise before them. Hugging the ground with their stomachs and hidden by thick vegetation, they checked out the setting while Wind Dancer and Red Feather enlightened the women about it.

  Chumani and Zitkala observed that their target sat in a near flat valley surrounded by high dirt-and-grass ridges partly bordered by two rivers. On three of its sides were scattered or clustered tepees, some with Indian families around them and others with hairy-faced trappers and their "squaws" and "half-breed" children. Since most of the abodes had unpainted surfaces and most of the Indians wore plain garments, it was impossible to guess to what tribe they belonged. Yet, some were clearly Pawnee, Cheyenne, Dakota, and Lakota. Even so, none of them should recognize the two Brule females who would pretend to be Cheyenne instead of Apsaalooke.

  Wind Dancer pointed out a steamboat which was heading southward on the wide and muddy river, and two keelboats which were floating on the water but secured at that location. White men labored on or near those crafts, loading some items and unloading others. A worn trail for hauling goods to and from the post was bustling with movement. It was apparent from the size and sturdiness of the settlement, the many activities in progress, and number of people there that the Whites did not intend to ever leave Lakota lands unless they were forced out.

  Wind Dancer disclosed that Fort Pierre was one of the largest and most crucial trading and supply posts for fur trappers, settlers, and travelers along the river's lengthy course. He told them that many men whom Whites considered important had visited there, and almost everyone who entered the territory made it one of their stops. Two large doors-facing east as did Indian tepees-could be shut and barred like when trouble arose, and were closed at night for protecting people and goods. There was a second opening in the wooden wall for stock to use, and it also stood open at that time.

  Chumani thought the post was shaped like an enormous parfleche, and she easily viewed its interior from their advantageous position. It was enclosed by tall and strong cottonwood logs, and she resented the enemy's use of sacred trees to encroach upon their lands. It had structures built against or near its inner sides, all with pointed tops like tepees, though their smoke and fresh air flaps were vastly different. From two overhanging blockhouses at the front and back corners, an awesome view of the river and Plains had to be visible. They contained slitsas did the walls-for firing weapons at enemies. She knew the three branches of the Dakota Nation-collectively Sioux to them-fit into that group.

  Three red, white, and blue cloths which her husband told her the wasicun called American flags waved constantly above the main structure and atop the blockhouses. She noted the wooden lodges were high and had many openings for obtaining light and air; from the English she had learned, she knew they were doors and windows. There were fences and sheds for visitors' mounts and for the post's animals to be kept at night, though most appeared to be grazing outside the wooden pickets at that time of day, under the watchful eyes of armed guards. She saw men-two Whites and one Indian, probably a scout-returning from morning hunts with fresh game; she watched them unload the already gutted animals and head out to slay more. She saw others stacking firewood, fetching barrels of fresh water, cleaning out animal enclosures, repairing some of the dwellings, and doing other chores she did not recognize. She even observed some Indian women washing the intruder's garments and hanging them out to dry on racks she felt should be built on the grasslands and holding buffalo meat. She did not understand why some Indians would prefer to dwell around and work for Whites instead of living proud and free upon the grasslands and in the forests. As she witnessed two Pawnee staggering out the main entrance, stumbling toward a cluster of tepees, and collapsing upon buffalo mats beside them, she hoped and prayed the enemy's "firewater" would never become appealing and enslaving to her loved ones. She sighted numerous mounds of dirt and knew it was a burial ground, and recalled the many deaths caused by the enemy's strange illness not long ago.

  Wind Da
ncer halted Chumani's observations, telling her that many of the nearby settlers wanted the post to become a military site for soldiers to protect them from "hostiles" and from bad whites who preyed upon them, but the owners refused to sell out to the Bluecoats. He said there were about twenty-five men who worked and lived within the lofty enclosure. Added to that number were trappers and other traders who stopped in to make exchanges, visit, rest, and resupply, travelers passing through the area, newly arrived settlers, men seeking work or begging for handouts after a bad hunting and trapping season inland, and Indians come to bargain.

  "It has been many seasons since I have been there, mitawin, so many changes may have happened," he told Chumani after finishing his description of the post. "Use the eyes of the hawk and cunning of the fox while entrapped with them. Do and say nothing to challenge them. The sun rests over our heads. Return before it rides halfway between this spot and Mother Earth or we will come for you."

  "We will be careful, mihigna, "she promised and smiled at him. "We must go now so we will have plenty of time to learn their secrets before you and Red Feather are attacked by fear for our safety," she said in an almost teasing tone.

  "We will worry even if you work fast or slow," Wind Dancer's best friend replied. He looked at Zitkala and said, "Return to me this day."

  The older Brule woman smiled and nodded, a slight blush coloring her cheeks after his bold and tender words before the others. "If we are slow in returning, Red Feather, do not rush to rescue us until you are certain we are in danger. To do so will prevent the great task we must do later."

  "We will watch and wait and not be foolish," Wind Dancer told them.

  War Eagle added his words of encouragement and hopes for much success.

  At last, Chumani and Zitkala left their loved ones to ride to the post on the pretense of trading furs, pelts, and hides for goods offered there. Many of their people had donated the animal skins for this purpose and they were the best available in their territory and should be worth much if the Whites did not try to trick them. Even so, they could not argue against such deceit, as it would call attention to them.

  They rode at a slow pace toward the front gates, each holding the tether of a second horse in one hand, both bearing a pile of furry skins. A blanket and half of a buffalo hide was between them and their mounts for comfort during their supposedly long journey. A large deerskin pouch of trail supplies and a water bag with their ends tied to a rawhide rope were suspended on either side of their animal's body to make it appear they had camped along the lengthy way to the post. The only weapons they carried were common knives in sheaths at their waists. Their fringed garments and moccasins bore no tribal markings, but their hairbone chokers and beaded belts and parfleches-gifts to some of the Red Shields from Cheyenne allies in the past-bore that tribe's colors and designs to imply membership to it. They did not talk as they remained alert for trouble and made observations.

  Chumani found it insulting to see an eagle-the noble warrior of the sky-painted on the flat wood over the main entryway of the post, along with colorful and well-drawn pictures of Indians and wasicuns talking and trading with each other. Perhaps it was to tell Indians the purpose of the post and to extend a welcome, or to make a clever show of feigned friendship to them. The women dismounted and walked to the opening where a bearded man halted them, a long firestick in his grasp and another shorter weapon in a waist sheath. She saw how he eyed them thoroughly and glanced at their possessions before speaking to them.

  "You women come to make trade?" he asked.

  Chumani-who was to do the communicating-kept her expression impassive as she used intertribal sign language to tell him she was Cheyenne, as if she could not understand or speak English. The man watched her rub the back of her left hand with the fingertips of her right one for Indian, then use the index finger cutting action to imply she was Cheyenne. Next she gave the gesture for trade. She motioned to the pack animals, then made the hand signals for kettle, beads, cloth, mirror.

  "Cheyenne, huh? Shaiyena?"

  "Heehee, "she responded, nodding her head to match her yes.

  "I don't know Shaiyena, but I'm pretty good with sign talk." He made the motions for not speaking Cheyenne but he knew a little sign language.

  To permit them to eavesdrop without notice, Chumani made it appear as if she only understood his hand-talk as he welcomed them and motioned for them to follow him.

  As Chumani and Zitkala trailed his lead, they heard men talking about the places inside with names like carpenter's shop, smithy, tinner, saddler, trading-house, living quarters, kitchen, and storage rooms. They halted near a large wooden one when he gestured for them to stop and wait there.

  Chumani watched as he approached the door and called out to a man inside, "You're gonna love these Cheyenne beauties, Bert; they got some choice pieces for trade if all of 'em match those I see on top. Don't speak no English, but they can sign good and speak Cheyenne."

  A second white man joined them and welcomed them in sign language, to which Chumani responded. She watched him walk to the loaded horses and lift some of the skins as he examined the furs, pelts, and buffalo hides.

  "You're right, Zeb; these seem like prime pieces. Let's take 'em inside and I'll give 'em a good lookover. Tell 'em to follow me and we'll make a good trade, then help me get this load to the counter."

  Zeb chuckled. "You ortta be able to steal these goods easy. I bet they ain't very bright in the head, but I wouldn't mind gettin' under their skirts and doin' a little pokin' around. How about you?"

  Bert scowled at him. "Don't talk too loud; we got Injuns inside who understand our words. They might get offended if they hear such jawing."

  Chumani and Zitkala watched Zeb sign for them to follow him inside after he and Bert collected part of the skins. They entered the trading-house where whiskey and tobacco were being given to Indian males before bargaining began. The other men present-Whites and Indians-only glanced up at them briefly. Bert signaled for the women to look around while Zeb hauled in the rest of the load and Bert examined their offerings on a long counter to decide their value. As soon as he finished helping Bert, Zeb returned to his guard duty at the gate.

  Chumani and Zitkala studied the many shelves and barrels and crates which almost filled the large room from floor to ceiling and held an assortment of goods. A display of Indian weapons, beadwork, and headdresses was suspended from pegs on one wall. She wondered if they had been gifts, exchanged by owners for weapons and whiskey, or were traded by enemies who had stolen them in raids or won them during battles. She was resentful that one item was a Black War Bonnet Society shield, as its markings were considered powerful and important medicine symbols, and had belonged to a Lakota somewhere.

  As they looked around, the white men they passed acted as if they either were not there or could not understand English, talking about them freely and often crudely to themselves or their friends. It suited the women fine to have them duped, as they gathered useful and interesting information from their enemies' words and careless behavior.

  Bert finally joined them and pointed out his offerings: Among them were guns, knives, hatchets, traps, coffee, sugar, flour, salt, needles, cloth, thread, kettles, utensils, tincups, mirrors, beads, trinkets, readymade shirts and pants, belts, ropes, cans of food, matches, lanterns, axes, shovels, canteens, shoes, white man's undergarments, blankets, and many more items. He laughed at their reactions as he related the uses of the unknown ones and gave them tastes of sugar and salt. He showed them how easy sewing would be with the needles and thread. He chuckled when he saw their amazement to "big magic" matches kept in a small metal box. He held up mirrors for them to view themselves, and handed each a comb to try.

  When another man summoned him to ask a question, Bert left them to look around some more while they made their choices and placed them on the counter beside the skins they were trading as he had instructed through signing.

  Chumani and Zitkala placed the last two selecti
ons atop the others, all except one item to be gifts to those who had donated the furs, pelts, and hides. Chumani looked at Bert as if to tell him they were ready to deal and watched him study the piles and take a deep breath. He handsigned for her to wait, then looked at the other men present.

  "Any of you speak Cheyenne? I can use some help over here. What about you, Henry? Don't you work along that section of the Missouri?"

  Chumani watched a scraggly-haired man come forth and she tensed, hoping he wouldn't expose their identities.

  "I spent some time with 'em during two winters, with Lone Wolf's band," Henry told Bert, "I know a little of their tongue. Whatcha need?"

  "Thanks, Henry. These two don't speak any English, and using that sign language would take a long spell. Tell 'em these things have to be brought from a long way off and cost plenty to get 'em here. Tell 'em they can have everything if they'll add those two packhorses to their payment."

  Chumani watched the trapper look through the hides. He wore hightop moccasins and had a beard almost to his waist. A foul stench emanated from him.

  Henry evaluated the skins slowly. "These are top quality pelts and hides, Bert, and tanned good, best job I've seen; no cuts anywhere," he concluded. "They're well-worth the items these women chose without adding them two horses. That's a raw deal. All you're gonna do by cheating them is make them mad and mistrustful. If you want them to come back and send their friends to you, it's best to deal straight with them."

  "Just tell them what I said. I got men itching to buy horses to replace some stolen by Crow recently. I'll give you a bottle of whiskey and pouch of tobacco for your help." Bert eyed the reluctant man. "Ah, hell, you drive a hard bargain, Henry. I'll throw in two traps and some coffee and salt. You can take 'em now, or I'll credit them to you to pick up later this year."